


hold me tight (and please don't let me go)

by Acxa_Kogane



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Batman: A Death in the Family, Characters Tagged As They Appear, Found Family, Gen, Good Parent Catherine Todd, I expanded on canon, It's not what you think, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason has a lot of parents, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parents, Tags May Change, Willis is a bad parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acxa_Kogane/pseuds/Acxa_Kogane
Summary: According to his birth certificate, Jason Todd's father is Willis Todd.According to his young memories, Jason Todd's mother is Catherine Todd.According to his legal status, Jason Todd's father is Bruce Wayne.According to a woman's testimony, Jason Todd's mother is Sheila Haywood.According to him, Jason Todd is nobody's son.But according to a hidden history, the well-known narrative of Jason Todd's parentage might not be as simple as it seems.
Relationships: Catherine Todd & Jason Todd
Comments: 21
Kudos: 40





	1. The Changeling

She woke up alone. Not surprising at first, since Willis had been out in the hallway when she'd given birth. He wasn't comfortable with the procedure and had been helpfully kicked out into the hallway by a nurse when the birth contractions began. When she felt her unnaturally (naturally?) flat belly and the lack of the little baby she'd carried over the last nine months, suddenly the loneliness wasn't so comfortable. Where was her son?!

The panic subsided a moment later when she remembered what had happened. There had been complications with her baby, he hadn't been breathing right. They'd taken him to the NICU. He was safe. Perfectly safe. She ignored the tightening knot of worry in her chest, a snake coiling around her heart. 

_But what if something happened? What if he wasn't okay? Was he breathing? Was he alive now that he'd left her protection?_

Two tense minutes later, a nursemaid appeared, summoned by the call button on the hospital bed. She gave her a weak smile, still thoroughly exhausted from giving birth.

"Ma'am? Is my baby okay?"

The nursemaid - Nancy, her tag said - smiled. An attempt at reassurance. Then she picked up a clipboard from one of the tables and consulted something on it before looking up, "Jason Peter Todd, correct?"

Catherine nodded, a thrill shooting through her from her fingers to the tips of your toes at that name. The name she'd picked and whispered to her little boy over the months, humming little tunes and imagining through the morning sickness and contractions what it would be like to hold _her child_ in her arms instead of her womb. 

The nursemaid made a quick apology, saying something about being understaffed and that she'd be right back, and disappeared out the door. She could hear her muffled voice as she checked in over the radio to get the status of her precious little one. _The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit._ He was fine. He _had_ to be fine. There was no reason to panic. 

But even as she tried to ignore it, memories of countless cigarettes over the past years flashed through her mind. Memories of a puddle of pills in the palm of her hand followed those. She felt sick. _What if he was dying because of her? What if her actions had killed a little life before it had a chance to truly begin?_

She'd stopped smoking and taking drugs as soon as she found out she'd been pregnant. Going through withdrawal was bearable when she thought about the little heart and lungs forming in her belly. She wouldn't let her addictions ruin the life of her precious son. _What if she was too late?_

A look at the clock informed her that it had been three hours. _Three hours._ So much could happen in three hours. It only took moments to die. _How many moments could fit in three hours? How many moments had she been unconscious while her child struggled to survive?_

The door of the small hospital room opened again, squeaking slightly on cheap hinges. She didn't have the energy to wince. 

Nancy smiled a genuine smile at her. A kind to reassure her. "Your son is doing much better, Mrs Todd." 

She sighed in relief. _He was alive_. 

The nursemaid continued, "They were able to stabilize his heart rate. He's still on a breathing tube, but they can probably take him off as his breathing appears to be voluntary now."

Her eyes welled up. "Thank you, miss," she whispered. "May I see him now?"

"I don't know-" her heart sank, but the nursemaid wasn't done, "-he's doing better, but I'm not sure he's able to be moved back here." 

The distress must have shown on her face because the nurse rushed to reassure her, "I'll do my best to bring him to you the moment they say he's okay."

She nodded. _At least he's alive._

Time was a blur of flashing memories mingling with present concern. It felt like an eternity before the door opened again and a table-like cradle was rolled in. Her heart was a solid weight in her chest till that little plastic structure was rolled up next to the bed and she could see her _child._

Happy tears filled her vision and she gasped in joy. _Oh her precious little one. How beautiful he was._ Tiny little hands all bunched up and squeezed tight, soft little baby cheeks with a blushed rosy color, and the teeniest black eyelashes you could imagine. She was reaching out to lift him to herself before she realized she was moving.

" _My son,"_ she whispered to the baby pressed up against her chest, _"my little Jason."_

She pulled back the little red hat he wore to press a kiss into soft black hair. "I love you more than you know, my child."

As she watched, the little boy, _her_ little boy, curled closer into her warmth as he slept, pressing his sweet little cheek against her and sending her heart racing with joy. 

This was **her** child. **Her son.** And she would die before she let any harm come to him. 

~~~

Nancy left Mrs Todd's room in mild confusion. The woman had been overjoyed to see her baby, but when she'd pulled back the traditional baby cap from the newborn's head, something had struck the young nursemaid as odd, though she couldn't quite figure out what. 

She looked at her clipboard, flipping to where Jason's information was recorded immediately after birth. 

_Time of birth: 4:02 PM_

_Weight: 10lbs_

_Hair color: Red-_

Red?

Stepping back into the room, she made her way to one of the counters along the edge of the room. The mother and son paid her no mind, the former whispering sweet nothings to her child. 

Glancing over surreptitiously, she noticed the red cap was still dislodged from the baby's head. Small curls peaked out from beneath it. Small, strikingly _black_ curls. 

Making a mark on her page, she corrected the small error and sighed softly. It was the third inconsistency in the NICU today alone. They'd been running on less than half of their regular staff. That new criminal, jester or joker or some clown-like name, had slaughtered and injured over three hundred people in some flamboyant terrorist attack just a few days ago, and now most of the staff had been repurposed to help the dozens of victims. 

She looked at the happy new family as she left the room, a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. They really needed more workers. Before an error was made that would result in more than just a baby incorrectly marked as a redhead. 

~~~

-One hour ago-

In another part of the hospital, a confused electrician looked at what should have been a blown fuse. The lights had all cut out in the pregnancy wing ten minutes ago. Instead of a burnt fuse, however, he found an empty hole and a perfectly intact fuse balanced atop the electrical box. 

"What in blue blazes...?" He muttered.

The fuse was replaced a moment later. A maze of hallways away, the lights flicked back on and relieved nursemaids turned off their flashlights. 

Nobody but one mildly suspicious electrician gave a second thought to the event. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based entirely off of my memories of the hospital and my little siblings' birth. I didn't research anything for this other than a two minute conversation with my mom. So if there are things wrong... yeah I'm not surprised. But based off the responses I've gotten so far, everything works, so just let me know if there's a detail that's incorrect. I also have no idea what electricians would do. Just memories of my dad talking with other dads about dad-like things.


	2. The Protection You Deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of occurrences from times often overlooked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know if this is coherent or anything. My brain is so freaking fried I can't even think straight, but I needed to write SOMETHING and it happened to be this. So here you go. Have some little Jason.

Gotham winters are always cold. 

Catherine pulled her little one close and pressed a kiss into his soft hair. His warmth tucked up next to her was the only good thing about this night. Willis had left again after a drunken beating. Her ribs ached with flushing bruises and her wrists were raw from the rough handling. But she'd protected Jay and that's what was important. 

These days Willis was less careful. He'd almost tripped over Jay when her little boy had crawled over to see if she was okay. Willis had yelled and attempted to kick him out of the way. Thankfully, she'd had time to grab the one-year-old away and hold him close, curling around him protectively. Willis had almost broken a rib of hers with his kick and she shuddered to think of what could have happened if that foot had met with her little boy's side. 

Jay made a crying noise in his sleep. She stroked the side of his little face and murmured quiet promises of love and protection till he calmed down. 

Gotham winters are always cold, but her heart was warm with love, and that was enough to survive. 

* * *

Willis had been missing for a week and a half. She checked the street on the other side of the cracked window for what had to have been the twentieth time in as many minutes.

Nothing. 

She turned to look at her precious child. Jay was still asleep, curled up in the corner of her sagging mattress. The light from the floor lamp on the other side of the room softly illuminated the little cheeks still rounded from baby fat, the curly black hair with a few strands of silver, and the tiny closed eyes. Sleeping peacefully, unaware of the dangers of the life he lived. 

_If only she could promise him the protection he deserved..._

She looked out the window again. The streetlight didn't reveal anything new to her, just the same dark streets and cracked cobblestones. 

_What if she dared?_

No. It was too dangerous. Willis could appear at any moment and he'd take it from her. It had been hard enough to keep him from knowing she had it still. Her last piece of her rights. Everything else was his, everything else he could take, but not that. Never that. 

Nobody was outside the window. Jay was asleep. Nobody else was nearby to see her. 

Swallowing hard, she chose to steal this moment for herself. Just for her. 

Quietly stepping across the room, she opened the closet, wincing at the squeaking hinges and glancing back to make sure she hadn't woken Jay up. Then she crouched and pried away a loose floorboard, revealing a hidden collection of items. She lit a small candle from the shelf and placed the glass jar next to the opening. 

A little red hat and cut hospital wristband rested atop a piece of paper – memories of the happiest day of her life. She slid them off and picked up the paper, reading the words printed on it and the sweeping signatures across the center. 

~

_This certifies that Jason Peter Todd  _

_was born to Sarah Catherine Todd  and  Willis J. Todd  _

_in this hospital at 4:27 pm  on _ _August 16, 1998_

~

* * *

Jay knew his mom was hurt. She'd been yelling with Dad that night. It was one of the nights where Dad started throwing stuff again. He'd hid behind the couch after Mom had told him to. She tried not to let him know she was getting hurt, but he knew anyway. They just didn't talk about it. Usually. 

She was cleaning up pieces of a broken glass trying to hide the hitching breaths and the way her hand kept coming up to her face. Her sleeve was wet with tears and blood. He went to get the dustpan for her. 

"Thank you, Jay." She smiled at him, putting on a brave face. 

He smiled back. She always liked it when he smiled. 

They swept and picked up the glass quietly. He cut his hand and went to get the couple bandaids they had in a small, beaten paper box. The glass was all cleaned up by the time he got back. Mom helped him up on the counter to wash out his cut. Then she went to get him a bandaid.

"Mom, I'm okay. I don't need it." 

She gave him a look. He gave her a look right back. 

"Jay, you've got a cut. We don't want it getting infected."

He made a face. His cuts never got infected. Hers did. 

"I'm okayyyy. Promise. Ya gotta do your cuts now." 

"Jay-"

He flicked her with water from the faucet. "I can see the blood all over ya. Don't lie ta me."

She watched him for a moment before softening. "Alright, little one."

He knocked his heels against the cabinet as he watched her wash her face. She needed to take care of herself. Last winter she didn't take care of a bad cut on her arm and it got infected and she was sick for days. She wasn't able to take her drugs and going through withdrawal just made it worse. He wasn't sure how close she was to dying, but the neighbor was very worried when he'd bright her over. 

Catherine wiped off her face, some red curls sticking to her cheeks, but all the blood gone. "There. Is that better, little one?"

He rolled his eyes. "Ya need a bandaid. Even if Willis don't like seein' it. I's better than gettin infected."

"Then you need one also."

He leaned back and ripped off a strip of paper towel and wrapped it around his thumb where the cut was. "There. Now you gotta put one on."

She sighed and lifted him off the counter, giving him a hug at the same time. "You are very sweet and concerned, my boy."

He watched carefully as she opened a bandaid and stuck it on her cheek over the cut. Then she bent down so he could see it. He investigated it very closely to make sure she did it right and good and that it wouldn't come off easy. 

"Is everything acceptable, Doctor Jason?"

He nodded very seriously. "Yes. You are free ta go."

She smiled and ruffled his hair. "Why thank you. Would you accept a story as payment for your treatment?"

He gasped. "A story?!! Can it be Pride 'n Prejudice??! Ya stopped right at the good part last time!"

She laughed and picked him up, walking over to the reading chair. "Of course it can. Remind me not to stop at the good part this time."

"But Mom! They're _all_ good parts! So ya gotta read _everything._ That's how it _works._ "

"We'll see..."

He adjusted his position and leaned on her so he could see the pages as she read.

"Chapter Twenty-One. The discussion of Mr. Collins offer was now nearly at an end, and Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily attending it..."

* * *

Willis was yelling again. To be honest, Jay was tired of it. That wouldn't stop him from going to protect his Mom. But he didn't ever like the bruises that came from taking the hits. They healed soon enough, but the few days they lasted were uncomfortable. 

A bottle smashed, sending the last drops of alcohol across the wall. Just another thing to clean up. 

He climbed down the stairs. 

"Dad?"

Maybe he was sober enough to realize it was him and not a punching bag between him and his target. 

The fist that connected with the side of his head and sent the room spinning as curses grated against his ears made it clear that he wasn't.

He fell back on his mom. She was whimpering quietly, holding her stomach in pain as she curled up against the wall. Willis towered over them and he got up again, glaring up at the man who kept hurting his mom so much. 

Talking was pointless at this point. Willis only ever really hit him like that when he was blackout drunk and angry. Hopefully the man would crash on the couch soon and he could find out if his mom was okay. 

Another hit split his lip. He tasted blood again. 

He really hoped Willis would stop soon. 

~~~

Catherine realized the beating had stopped when she felt little hands shaking her shoulder.

"...Mom?"

Sucking in a deep breath she looked up at the face of her little boy and choked on a sob again, seeing the blood on his chin and his swollen lip. 

_He didn't deserve this._

_I'm so sorry, my child._

"Jay... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." The tears started again. 

Her little boy, not even five years old yet, getting beaten up by his father. To protect her. 

_I'm supposed to protect you..._

Jay was saying something, but she couldn't quite hear him. She just pulled him close and held him tight. He didn't know what had happened. He didn't know who had been lost. 

_You would have been such a good big brother..._ _I'm so sorry..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a headcanon that when Jay was almost five, Catherine got pregnant again and he almost had a sister. In this world, Catherine did get pregnant, but it wasn't Willis' child, and when Willis found out, he beat her hard enough and repeatedly enough that she miscarried. Jay was unaware of what was going on, and in this universe might never find out he would have had a little sibling. But usually I headcanon that Catherine carried the baby to term but wasn't able to go to a hospital, so little Jay was trying to help deliver the baby with the help of a working girl from the streets. The baby only lived for a few hours, but Jay never forgot those hours. In this fic that didn't happen though, so maybe I'll write a scene about that as a one-shot sometime.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic hit me like a train. AND IT CAME WITH A PLOT. So I actually have an idea what I'm gonna do here, which means this fic *gasp* MIGHT ACTUALLY GET REGULAR UPDATES!!!


End file.
